


Paranoia

by DidYouSayHeadlightFluid (Kiki_The_Marauder)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiki_The_Marauder/pseuds/DidYouSayHeadlightFluid
Summary: Reid needs to loosen up, have some fun, go out more. And he does. And it backfires.---The first part of this is the word barf version that does an outline of the whole idea and plot. I've written the full story of what happens in that outline, but might write an epilogue soon. :)





	1. Word Barf/Outline

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 is complete word barf and if you don't want the whole storyline spoiled for you, don't read it!

Reid can't really handle physical contact, but when the team starts teasing him about not going out enough and about not having any romantic relationships or even casual partners, he starts going to clubs. Gay ones, in particular, just to get the others off his back. He usually doesn't drink alcohol, but when he does, it dulls his inhibitions just enough to let men put their hands on his hips on the dance floor and pull him closer to them as they move to the music. But he's always come up with an excuse to leave before they can ask him to come home with them.

One night, he's sitting at the bar, about to finish off his fruity drink and go home, when a really good looking guy (not as good at Derek, obviously) sits with him and insists on buying him a drink. Reid's already had more than normal, but this guy is cute and they're just gonna chat. So he agrees and takes a couple sips before he has to use the bathroom.

And he knows the statistics, he knows how to keep himself safe, and he knows that leaving his drink unattended with a stranger who obviously wants to sleep with him is a bad, bad idea, but those thoughts don't ever reach the front of his mind. They never enter his stream of consciousness at its current, sluggish pace. So he does his business and goes out and takes a huge swig of his drink and keeps talking and eventually finishes it. And then he starts to get dizzy, but he knows it's just the alcohol. And the guy suggests they get out of the club and Reid says no, but the guy just sort of chuckles and half picks him up and brings him outside. Spencer's legs move, and he looks like a normal drunk guy from the outside, but inside, everything is spinning and weird and loud and he's being pushed in to the backseat of a truck in a dark parking lot and his pants are pulled down to his knees and hands are under his shirt and he wants to scream and run away, but he feels sick and he's too dizzy and weak. He accepts his fate and cries and eventually passes out.

And when he finally wakes up, he's being prodded by a cop who's telling him he can't sleep here. He's on a bus stop bench and it's early. Two am? Three? He apologizes to the officer and gets his phone, calling a cab (with his last 2% of battery) to take him home. His head hurts along with much of the rest of his body, and he gets home and gets in a searing hot shower that almost burns him and turns his skin red and he washes off that man's touch and the smell of his cologne. He notices blood flow down the drain and he cries. He makes a decision right then that he can't tell anyone.

And he doesn't tell anyone for three weeks, but he acts different. He usually likes being in the field, but he offers to hang back a lot more. He usually will join the others for a drink after a case, but he declines every time. He won't get on a bus if there are only men aboard. He won't accept coffee anybody's made for him, even his friends, and if he leaves a cup unattended, even for a minute, he dumps it. And he responds even more negatively to touch. Usually, he's okay with Derek touching his shoulder in passing with a little "good job" after he makes a breakthrough, but he jerks away from the friendly touch quite obviously. And he can tell that Morgan is hurt by it.

And while everyone else on the plane home is asleep, Hotch sits across from him and presses him and Reid tries to damn hard not to cry because he feels so stupid for letting it happen to himself, but he trusts Hotch and he spills everything. He says how he just wanted to try to loosen up but he never went home with anyone, and he was actually interested in his guy and might have said yes if he had asked normally, and how he was somehow stupid enough to leave his drink alone and he let himself get drugged and raped and now he has silent tears running down his face and Hotchner's face actually softens and he tells Reid it's not his fault.

But if course Reid feels like it is his fault, because he just left his drink there with a stranger and he went to the seedy club in the first place. He makes Hotch swear not to tell anybody and, of course, he promises not to... Unless he sees Spencer getting worse and he's scared for him and his safety.

And one day, when they get home from a case about a serial rapist leaving slender, light brunette girls in parking lots outside dive bars, Spencer goes home almost immediately and doesn't say goodbye to anyone and Hotch is worried. But he has to get home to his son, so he asks Morgan to go check in on him and make sure he's alright.

When Derek arrives at Spencer's apartment, he knocks on the door and a half drunk, crying Spencer opens the door and just sort of starts sobbing and so Derek just sort of holds him and brings him to the couch and tries to calm him down enough to speak. Reid finally tells him what happened and Morgan is just so heartbroken that he can't even be angry at the bastard that hurt his pretty boy.

He just holds him for a long time and tells him that it's okay and promises not to let him get hurt again. And Derek Morgan never breaks a promise.


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm actually making this a thing! Please continue encouraging me if you want to see more. As of right now, it looks like all the parts will be fairly short, but I'm trying to make them as good as I can. Thank you so much!

Spencer Reid had never been a big fan of physical contact. He didn't like shaking hands or hugging or being too close to anyone, really. It was never a problem, and it never effected him to much. But when his friend, a.k.a. coworkers, started joking about him not having any partners (romantic or otherwise), he knew he had to get more comfortable with touch.

Of course, it's not like he never touched anyone. He was okay with JJ tapping his shoulder to get his attention, or Morgan's hand on his back in congratulations after he made a breakthrough. All of that was perfectly okay. But outside the people he was closest to, he really disliked touch.

He knew he needed to change that if he had any chance of being in a real relationship, and the best way to do that was exposure and throwing himself into an environment where he knew contact with other people was nearly inevitable. And why not make it a place where he might actually want to be touched by the people there?

He headed to gay clubs often. Any weekend that they weren’t on a case, he would go out at least once to have a few drinks. He sat by himself at the bar, mostly, keeping a good view of the whole room and doing a basic profile on every guy that even glanced his way.

Clean cut, short beard, professional haircut. Maybe a businessman. Probably open, he’s with a group that also looks very put together. Co-workers, probably. Two women and a man. He was attractive, but probably not single and would not be interested.

Big, tall, all muscle and body hair under a tight black tank top. Scanning the room back and forth, sipping a cheap beer. Most likely a security job? Or something menial. Convenience store? Anyways, he was creepy. And he scooped a short, skinny man in to his arms and spoke lowly to him. Spencer averted his eyes.

Tall, dark, handsome, he sort of reminded Spencer of Derek… but this man had long dreadlocks tied back behind his shoulders. The way he moved and drew attention, he might have been a dancer or performer of some kind. A tight shirt and skinny jeans left little to the imagination and he was dancing with several other guys at the same time. He was good looking, but occupied.

And then Spencer saw someone sit down at the barstool beside him out of the corner of his eye. He turned, his shoulders tensing a little as he saw a man smiling at him from just a few feet away. He was perfectly average looking, brown hair and blue eyes. Lightly tanned skin, but it was late Summer and maybe he had gone on vacation recently? He looked like he worked at a fairly high-end job, considering this clean cut edges, neat fingernails, and shirt-and-tie combo that said “I came here straight from work”. He was handsome, and Spencer did find him fairly attractive. Maybe he would spend some time with this guy and possibly have a good time.

“You here all alone?” The man asked, sipping some of his glass of whiskey. Spencer just nodded, holding his own empty glass in his hand. He’d already had two mojitos and was planning on going home soon.

“Yeah, just me.” He said with an awkward little smile.

“Well, can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh,” Spencer looked at his empty glass. He was already feeling buzzed, but one more wouldn't hurt. He’d had three before and been fine. “Okay, sure.”

The man beside him hailed the bartender and Spencer asked for a cosmopolitan. He always drank fruity, girly drinks when he was alone. He would drink beer around his friends to prevent teasing from Derek, and only Penelope knew of his love for beverages that came with a little umbrella.

“So, what’s your name sweetheart?” The man asked, leaning in close to Spencer. Spencer didn’t know how to flirt in the slightest, but he knew trying only made it worse. What tended to work best was mirroring. Not all the time, but sometimes, he would get results from acting similarly to how the guy he was with was acting. Just in little ways. Leaning in, smiling, but he still tended to shy away from touch. He was working on it, tough. He leaned in as well.

“Spencer.” He said and his drink was placed by his elbow. He reached to take a sip of the red cocktail.

“Hmm, I like that name.” The man said and kept his eyes trained on him. “I’m Nathan.”

Spencer should have noticed that he didn’t meet his eyes when he said that. He should have noticed this guy glancing at the martini glass in his hand more than once. His inhibitions were just dull enough that he didn’t notice these vital details and didn’t draw any conclusions.

They talked for a little while. Nathan didn’t seem to mind how long-winded Spencer was and kept laughing when he would talk.

“You’re cute.” He said and glanced at the cocktail again. Spencer had only taken a sip or two of it since he got it. “Do you want to dance?” He asked and Spencer licked his lips. He’d danced with guys a few times, but he always felt so awkward and would dip out quickly, apologizing. But he was willing to try.

“Sure, just let me use the bathroom first. I’ll be right back.” He sad with a smile and got up, leaving his drink on the counter as he made his way towards the back of the club.

And he knew the statistics, he knew how to keep himself safe, and he knew that leaving his drink unattended with a stranger who obviously wanted to sleep with him was a bad, bad idea, but those thoughts didn’t ever reach the front of his mind.


	3. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning!!!!! The archive warning comes in this chapter, and I don't just gloss over it. Please please please feel free to skip over it if you are uncomfortable.
> 
> I also don't really know how drugs affect the mind and body, I just took my best guess from what I know.

When he returned from the bathroom, he finished his drink quickly, hoping the alcohol would be enough to let him let Nathan touch him while they danced. Nathan smiled and held out a hand for Spencer, who took it slowly. This was okay. He was okay with their hands linked like this. He was guided to the edge of the dance floor and gasped when he was pulled against Nathan’s body. Hands held his hips firmly and he could feel hot breath on his face. Normally, Spencer would freak out and run the other way, but he had been practicing. He was okay. He was just dancing and having a good time with a very attractive man.

As the music pounded in his ears and the heat between their bodies balanced out, Spencer relaxed a bit more. He smiled at Nathan and moved with him, his muscles relaxing as well as his mind. It was like another force took over.

‘Alcohol is amazing’ he thought and he closed his eyes.

Pink and green and blue and yellow flashed outside his eyelids. The floor vibrated with every pulse of the bass speakers. Lazer light shows danced across his face as they passed and his body moved without him needing to think about it, swaying to the music and moving with the other body pressed up against him. The other body was really close. Completely against him. He could feel the curve of this body’s chest… wait, no, not just a body. Spencer opened his eyes again and he saw a head attached to that body. Brownish hair, squarish jaw… right, it was Nathan. He was dancing with Nathan. He smiled and kept his eyes open now, but they kept going out of focus and it made him dizzy. There was still hot breath on his face and he licked his lips.

But he kept dancing, his feet moving and body being guided to the rhythm. He blinked quickly to try to clear the clouds out of his eyes. He felt like he was going to fall over, so he put his hands on Nathan’s shoulders to steady himself. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and held him tight. Really tight. He wiggled a little to try and get them to loosen up but they just held tighter and he heard a low chuckle.

“Are you feeling okay, babe?” A voice said right in his ear and he turned away from the sound quickly. The hot air inside his ear was uncomfortable and the breath smelled like cigarettes and alcohol.

“Hmm? Oh… oh yeah, just a little… drunk.” He said and tried to wiggle out of the arms again.

“Maybe we should go sit down, then. Or maybe we could just get out of here? How does that sound?” Nathan said in his ear again, making Spencer’s ear hot.

“Sitting down sounds good.” He said and tried to move towards the tables near the bar.

“Let’s just leave.” Nathan said. “C’mon, I think you’ve had enough to drink now. Let’s get you in to a bed.”

“No, I just need to sit.” Spencer insisted and Nathan just chuckled again. With his strong arms, he started guiding Spencer towards the door. Spencer’s feet moved even when he tried to stop them. He walked with Nathan off the dance floor. The hands moved to his shoulders and he tried to get away again, but the effort he made was sluggish and the movement just made him dizzy. Fingers dug in to his shoulders and he groaned. That hurt. A lot. He wanted him to let go. Spencer put a lazy hand on Nathan’s arm and pushed, but it was almost nothing. His arms didn’t work very good right now.

There was a blast of cold air and a loud clang and then the sounds from the club were really muffled and it was just wind and feet on pavement. He blinked slowly as he was walked down the street.

“Cold.” He said. “My jacket is… inside.” He tried to turn and go back for it, but there were still strong, painful hands on his shoulders. He was pushed roughly around a corner and he stumbled on his own feet. The hurting hands caught him and one of them left his shoulder soon. He heard the sound of a car door opening and then he was laying in the backseat of a vehicle. It was uncomfortable and there was a seatbelt buckle digging into his back.

“Stay still, baby.” Nathan said and Spencer groaned, his whole body limp. He couldn’t make it move.

“Ow.” He grumbled and closed his eyes to make everything stop spinning. He felt things happening… he heard his belt buckle and a zipper… and then another zipper and shuffling of fabric, and cool air on his legs and groin. Spencer opened his eyes again and saw Nathan hovering over him, his pants down to his knees and smirking at him.

“Hold still.” He said and grabbed Spencer’s leg, pushing it to the side and manhandling him a bit. Spencer tried to reach up and push him away, but his arms felt like they were made of lead. He whimpered and gritted his teeth.

“Stop.” He said weakly. He wanted Nathan to stop touching him. He wanted to get out of this truck and leave. “Please, no… stop.” He said and then the worst pain of his life. Worse than getting shot, worse than being tortured… it hurt so bad and he closed his eyes again because everything was spinning and he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists and tears ran down the sides of his face as the truck rocked and grew warmer. Nathan was breathing hard and his fingers dug into Spencer’s skin. He felt teeth on his chest, biting so hard he cried out. The hot breath felt like fire on his skin. He kept his eyes closed, afraid he was going to throw up if things were still spinning. Nathan grunted and finally the pain subsided. There was more noise and another rush of cold air and Spencer was laid down on something hard. He kept his eyes closed as he heard an engine start and the truck drive away, and then he fell asleep.


	4. 3

It was cold when he woke up. There was someone nudging his leg with something hard. He gasped and sat up quickly, his head spinning. The world tilted and he wasn’t sitting on a level surface. He wanted to puke. Spencer dropped his knees between his legs and puked up a horrible color bile that was a mix of the few fruity drinks he had consumed and a little bit of food. He groaned out loud and realized that his body ached. His lower back was killing him and it felt like his shoulders were bruised. Spencer slowly looked up and saw a cop standing in front of him, holding his flashlight and giving him a slightly sympathetic look.

“You can’t sleep here, buddy.” He said and Spencer rubbed his eyes, looking around a little. It was dark outside. The orange glow of streetlights and the stark white light of the flashlight lit the area. There was a squad car nearby, but the street was otherwise empty. The metal bench he was sitting on was in a little glass shelter. A bus stop.

“Sorry…” Spencer mumbled and rubbed his eyes again. He ran his hands over his hair and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was 3 am and his phone was at 2% battery, but it was enough to call a cab. The cop got back in his squad car and left Spencer at the bus stop. Spencer looked at the sign on the bus stop to let the cab dispatch know where he was. The dispatcher let him know that a cab was on the way. He hung up the phone and put his face in his hands.

His whole mind was still funny. He couldn’t really remember what had happened this night. He just knew that his body hurt and he felt sick and he wanted to be at home.

It took the cab about fifteen minutes to arrive. Spencer was shivering and he got in and thanked the driver before telling him his address. It was an older gentleman with a clean cut beard and neat white hair. He turned up the heat in the cab and Spencer thanked him again.

The car pulled up to the curb in front of his apartment. He dug out his wallet and fished out a ten dollar bill and a few crumpled ones.

“I… I’m so sorry. This is all I have…” He said, looking at the meter. He owed the driver twenty-one dollars.

“It’s alright.” The driver said and smiled warmly at him. “You look like you’ve had a long night. You don’t owe me anything.”

Spencer felt like he was going to cry again. He thanked the driver yet again and got out of the car, rushing inside his apartment. He leaned down to take off his shoes and headed to the bathroom, limping along the way due to the pain in his back.

He was completely exhausted. Too tired to be humiliated or angry or scared… just exhausted. He turned on the bathroom light and got the water running so it would be warm. There was nothing he hated more than a cold shower.

He slowly started to unbutton his shirt and realized his hands were shaking. He stared at them and tried to make them stop, but his body wouldn’t let him. So he struggled with the buttons and finally just pulled his shirt over his head. Spencer paused when he saw himself in the mirror. He had red marks across his chest. Bite marks. Hickeys. He could see where teeth had dug in to his skin all over his pale flesh. He looked at his shoulders and saw red marks in the shape of fingers. Those would develop in to nasty bruises. He forced himself to step back from the mirror and turn around so he couldn’t look at himself anymore.

He slowly began to get out of his pants, too. It hurt to bend over like that. His lower back hurt from being bent in to a position in the back of that truck with his knees almost to his chest. He had more finger marks on his hips and thighs. Handprints that would last for a week. They were so… possessive. Spencer belonged to whoever had given him these marks.

He forced himself, again, to look away. He quickly stripped off his boxer briefs and socks, getting in to the shower before he was able to catch sight of himself in the mirror again. He let the warm water hit his shoulders for a while, just standing there and trying not to feel sick. He could still feel the hands on him.

Spencer turned the temperature of the water up. He needed to wash those hands away. They grabbed his shoulders and waist and legs, forcing him to bend to the will of someone who wanted to hurt him. He turned the water hotter again. Steam rose from around him and the air grew humid. Spencer still felt phantom hands and fingers and teeth on him. Lips moved over the marks on his body and he tried to get them off with the water. Hotter. If he made it hotter, they would go away.

He scrubbed himself with strong soap and a scratchy cloth. His skin was red from the heat and from the irritation of the rough fabric on his sensitive skin. Spencer sighed and let the water pour on to his back and down his legs for a minute. He opened his eyes and let out a tiny, choked sob. There was a trail of pink in the water running down his thighs and in to the shower drain. He didn’t know how much blood there was before and he figured that a lot of it was already washed away by now. He just gritted his teeth and cleaned himself up and turned the water hotter.

Finally, with every bit of his skin screaming at him, Spencer turned the water back to a reasonable temperature and shut it off. The mirror was completely fogged over and he was glad for it. He didn’t want to see himself ever again. He didn’t even bother to comb his hair after drying off, instead electing to go right to his bedroom and collapsing in to bed.

His skin was still red from the water and he didn't want the pain to fade. If this pain subsided, the pain that the hands and the teeth inflicted on him would come back. He pulled on some sleeping clothes, making sure the fabric wasn't too soft that it soothed his skin. He crawled into bed and made himself a vow that he would never go out to meet guys ever again.


	5. 4

It was Saturday, but serial killers didn’t care about weekends, so the whole team was up in the air on their way to a city called Forest Hills in Washington State. Spencer was quiet, pretending to read a book, but nobody noticed that he wasn’t turning a page every fifteen and a half seconds like he normally did. He wasn’t necessarily thinking about anything in particular. His mind, for the first time in a very long time, was fairly blank. The thoughts that did drift across his conscious mind consisted of tiny facts about the case that didn’t actually lead to any connections. Things like “three women dead” and “multiple stab wounds” and “found outside bars”.

“Spence... Spencer!” Morgan nudged his shoulder and Spencer jerked away quickly. Morgan had hit one of the bruises on his shoulder and it sent a pang through his whole body. His whole mind was telling him to run away from this situation, but he was in an airplane by the window and Morgan was sitting next to him, frowning at him. “You okay? We’re landing soon.” He said and Spencer stared at him, wide eyed and heart pounding.

“Okay.” He said weakly. Morgan frowned at him more, his eyebrows creasing.

“Is something wrong? You seem jumpy.” He said and Spencer licked his lips and took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Yeah, just… distracted. Thinking. You startled me, that’s all.” He lied and Derek seemed to accept the answer.

“Alright, well, get your seatbelt on.” He said and shut off his iPod. Spencer buckled his seatbelt and looked out the window, trying to take deep breaths and keep himself calm. His mind still felt foggy, like his thoughts were trying to swim through syrup. He was probably still feeling some effects of whatever drugs had been used on him last night, as well as only getting a few hours of real sleep. It had been less than twelve hours since he left his drink alone with a stranger who wanted to sleep with him. Spencer felt like he was going to be sick.

The plane landed and he opened his eyes. They had been starting their decent before he blinked.

It was an automatic motion to unbuckle his seatbelt and shuffle off the plane with the others. He climbed in to the car and tucked himself in to a corner as far as he could to to ensure his leg wouldn’t brush up against JJ’s. If anyone touched him, he knew he would go rushing back to laying across the back seat of that truck. It had smelled like stale fast food and cigarettes. He wanted to throw up again. He stared at the window so no one could see his face.

He was part of the team that was going to the crime scenes along with JJ and Rossi. They pulled up to the most recent scene. The area behind this seedy dive bar was taped off and there was a patrol car parked nearby. The body had already been moved away from the scene, but it hadn’t been completely cleaned up yet. They got out of the car and approached the police officer standing just inside the taped off border.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly.” The officer said once they were introduced. Or… Spencer assumed they had been introduced. He didn’t remember, but he had his hands in his pockets like he always did during introductions to ensure that he didn’t have to shake anyone’s hand. Spencer could see his name tag, though. Dienard. Officer Dienard.

“Well, three weeks in a row with no new leads? We’ll do whatever we can to help.” Rossi said and they approached the crime scene to take a look around. The back of the bar was red brick and there was some trash and cigarette butts lying around. There was a reddish stain on the concrete from the blood that had pooled around the body.

“Collect these cigarettes and see if you can get any DNA off of them. And if that DNA matches out victim. Look for butts at the other crime scenes too.” Spencer rattled off. “If they’re all smokers, that could be another connection and could help us see if the Unsub lured them out here or if they were here of their own vocation.”

“That’s a great idea, Spence.” JJ said and pulled on some gloves to start bagging each cigarette butt individually and labeling them. There wasn’t much more to see here, so they headed to the coroner’s office to take a look at the bodies.

Spencer blacked out again in the car. They were walking in to the local hospital and heading down to the basement when he became lucid again. JJ was sort of glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t say anything. They walked in to the coroner’s office and were introduced to Doctor Nygard. The most recent victim was out on her table ad she showed them the jagged and deep stab wounds on her abdomen and chest.

“Our Unsub would have to be really strong to stab her so fiercely and quickly,” Rossi observed. “so probably a young male.”

“There’s been an upswing in female Unsubs using knives to commit murders in recent years, but based on the victimology and killing them behind traditionally straight dive bars, and the ferocity of these attacks, our Unsub is almost definitely a male in his mid twenties to early thirties.” Spencer said and fell silent again.

“This one had a chance to fight back,” Dr. Nygard said and held up the victims’ hand. “I found skin cells under her fingernails and defensive wounds on her knuckles and elbows. She probably had self defense training.”

“You didn’t find anything like this on the other victims?” JJ asked.

“No, nothing at all. The others never got a chance. But the latest victim was stabbed more times than any of the others.”   


“He’s angry at them. His rage was increased when she tried to fight back and get away from him,” Rossi said sadly, looking down at the young brunette laying on the table. “We tell women how to keep themselves safe, but even that’s not enough.”


	6. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat? Two in one day? Look at me being all motivated! I'm not great at writing investigations so we glossed over most of it. That's not the important part anyways. Thank you so much for your patience and support as I try my best to write whenever I can! It's the third week of the quarter and my English class is already kicking my ass (meaning I'm procrastinating super hard and avoiding my computer so I don't have to look at the tab with a 32 page document I have to read by last week... oops). I hope I'm not hurting you too much with the anxiety and angst!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter. I actually like the case I built? I might even expand on it in the future to include family interviews and talking with Officer Dienard and Dr. Nygard more... we'll see

“The skin cells under our third victim’s fingernails matches DNA found on cigarette butts at all three crime scenes, but its not in any database. The DNA of each victim was also found on cigarettes at the respective scenes.” Hotch said as he entered the conference room where they had set up shop. The case board was laid out with photos of their three victims. Natalie Forte, Lena Dryer, and Wendy Jefferson. They could have been sisters for how similar they looked. All of them in their mid twenties with shoulder length brunette hair, hazel eyes, and slight builds. Spencer felt sick, like he was looking in a gender-bending mirror.

“Why would he be so careless to leave his DNA at the crime scenes?” Derek asked, sitting back in his chair and looking around to the others. “He’s standing outside with the victims, smoking, probably chatting so he can be closer to them, and then he pulls out a knife and stabs them. He takes the murder weapon with him and never touches their bare skin. Why wouldn’t he pick up his cigarette?”

Spencer could smell the stifling, ashy smell all around him and his skin itched. It was early Sunday morning and his bruises were dark and ugly. The bite marks on his chest ached with every movement. He was fully aware that he could have been killed on Friday. He could have ended up like these women. Really, he had gotten off easy. It wasn’t worth it to say anything.

“Maybe it’s part of his ritual?” JJ suggested. “He stays afterwards to finish his smoke and tosses the butt near them like some form of humiliation or dehumanization? Maybe he sees them as trash.”

“You’re on the right track, but I don’t think that’s exactly it,” Rossi said. “If he saw them as trash, he would have either put them near or in dumpsters or garbage bags. There were dumpsters near enough to each girl that he could have carried them, but he never took advantage of it. I do agree that the cigarettes are part of his ritual.”

Derek flipped through some pages. “They all smoked different brands, worked in different areas, have different family backgrounds… I mean, married with a kid, single and living alone, and dating living with her sister. Their looks and the fact that they smoke are the only similarities between them.”

Spencer started at the board. He had been getting better at focusing over the last two days. It was probably the drugs finally leaving his system. Many drugs had a half life of up to 72 hours. He was beginning to make connections again and his stream of ideas was more vivid and detailed. If it wasn’t  their place of work… where else would all three women interact with the same person?  He picked up his phone quickly and called Garcia.

“What can I do for you Boy Wonder?” She said cheerfully when she answered.

“Penelope, where’s the closest convenience store to where each victim lived?” He asked and there was some tapping.

“Uhhh… no dice. All different locations, different companies.”

“Is there one that corresponds with all three of their routes to work?”   


“Um… two of their paths to work use the same road, and there’s a gas station in the stretch they both drive, but the first victim’s route goes nowhere near it.”

“What about grocery stores?”

“Let’s see here… There’s two grocery stores within ten miles of each victims’ residence, one of which has a tobacco and liquor counter. Bank records say… all three women made regular purchases there after going grocery shopping.”

“So they purchased cigarettes most often at the same place.” Rossi said, connecting the dots.

“Garcia, can you look in to employees of the store that regularly work during all three women’s off-work hours? Narrow the search to 25 to 35 year old unmarried males that live within ten miles of both the grocery store and the kill zone.” Spencer leaned over the phone sitting on the table and everyone was quiet while Garcea tapped away on her computer.

“Okay, okay… Got it! Mitchell Warren. 27 years old, living alone. Was reported for stalking while he was still in High School, but the charges were dropped and he never served time. Therefor his DNA’s not in the system. Yikes, reported for stalking  _ again  _ after graduating, was put on probation but didn’t serve time. Only his fingerprints are on record. He works the evening shift as a manager at the Forest Hills Discount Grocery Market, most of his employees are underage so he spends most of his time at the tobacco and liquor counter. Car GPS puts him at each different bar on the nights of the murders. His address is coming to you now.”

“Thanks Garcia. Let’s go.” Hotch said, standing up and adjusting his holster. Spencer hung up the phone and got the address from the message Penelope sent him. He started to follow the others out the door and froze. He looked at the picture attached to the message. It was a photo of Mitchell Warren. Perfectly average. Brown hair, blue eyes, square jaw… He looked too much like the man from Friday who’s name Spencer couldn’t remember.

“Uh… I’ll send Morgan the address. I think I’m going to hang back on this one.” He said and Derek frowned at him.

“You sure about that? You usually like seeing the bad guy come down.” He said and Spencer shrugged.

“I dunno, I’m not feeling great today. I’ll see you guys soon.” He said and forwarded the message to Derek. The man’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, but Hotch called for him to hurry up and he left the room.

Spencer let out a huge breath and put his hands in his face. He couldn’t face someone who looked so much like him. Someone who hurt people that looked so much like himself. His whole body ached again and he tried to calm himself down. It would go away eventually, he just needed time.


	7. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof yikes sorry for not posting in so long... A lot happened in the last couple weeks with school and work and such but I'm mostly all good now. This is probably the second to last part, and it's a doozy. Bit longer than the others, too. Enjoy!

Mitchell Warren was brought in to the station in handcuffs. He was silent, his head down, but smiling. Reid felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't remember exactly what the man from Friday had looked like… But Mitchell was close enough that it made his mind run through everything that happened Friday night on fast forward in his brain. He looked away and took deep breaths, his whole body numb.

He never looked at Warren again. He avoided the areas where he was. He didn’t observe interrogations. He heard from JJ that he confessed quickly and seemed proud of it. He bragged about being able to get close to them. He was happy that he got to look in to their eyes as they died. They found several partial packs of cigarettes in his truck, all matching the brands that each woman smoked. They were his trophies.

The case was closed and Reid helped take down the case board and pack everything away in to a box to keep on record. Morgan stood next to him and looked at the pictures of the girls one more time.

“No matter how many cases I see, it still blows my mind that someone could kill people and smile as they’re arrested. He didn’t care that they were dead or that he got caught. He was just happy he got to do it at all.” Derek said, his arms crossed and a large crease between his eyebrows. Spencer’s hands shook as he took down the photos and put them in to a file.

“Sociopaths don’t understand the emotions of others and experience very few emotions of their own. They basically have rage and pleasure. Killing gave him pleasure and being caught just gained him attention, which is something sociopaths crave.” Reid said and closed the lid of the box. He looked down at the plain brown surface, trying to calm himself down. He was still clutching the edges and forcing himself to breathe deeply. Morgan frowned at him.

“Spence… you okay? You look really shaken.” He said and moved closer. Spencer flinched visibly.

“Uh… yeah, I’m fine. I just had too much coffee.” He said, his voice cracking a little.

“You sure about that? You sound like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

“I’m _fine_ , Derek.” He snapped and left the room quickly. Oh God oh God oh God. Morgan had looked like he was going to reach out and try to touch him. He would have actually had a panic attack if they did that.

“Hey, Spencer,” Hotch said, stopping him in the hall. Spencer stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth shut tightly and breathing heavily through his nose. His whole body was tense and his fists were clenched at his sides. Hotch gave him that squinty side-eye that he did whenever he was trying to figure something out. “We’re getting ready to go. Was Morgan in the conference room with you?” He said and Spencer nodded, trying to get past him. Hotch side stepped slightly to block his path. “Reid, are you okay?” He asked and Spencer bit his lip hard.

“I’m fine.” He said quickly and tried to get around him on the other side. Hotch side stepped again.

“No, you’re not,” He said, his face stoick but his eyes concerned. “Come with me, let’s find somewhere private to talk.” He said and guided Spencer down the hall to an empty office far away from everyone else. They stepped inside and Hotchner closed the door. He went to lock it, but hearing Spencer’s sharp inhale and seeing him tense up, he left it unlocked.

“Hotch, I’m fine, really.” Spencer said, but his shaking voice gave him away.

“Sit down, please.” Hotch said, motioning towards one of the old chairs in the room. Spencer sank down slowly and Hotchner stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

“I’m-”

“Please stop saying you’re fine. You’re not fine. What’s going on?” He asked and stared at him. Spencer looked down, unable to speak. His heart was hammering and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He really was having a panic attack right now. Hotchner grabbed another chair and sat in front of Spencer. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe here, and you have as much time as you need, but I have to know what’s going on.”

They sat there in silence for a long time. Spencer slowly coaxed himself to calm down enough to breathe and clear his mind. He relaxed his shoulders and raised his head up and looked at Hotch. He knew he could trust him, but he really didn’t want to tell him. It was humiliating… he had let it happen to himself. His own carelessness and idiocy had lead to all of this stress.

“I… I was tired of everyone teasing me about not going out…” He began, his hands folded together firmly in his lap. He licked his lips and swallowed. “And so I started going to clubs... I just wanted to hook up with people, and learn how to be more… I don’t know, normal? I was getting better at it. I could let men touch me while we danced. And then I…” His voice broke and he couldn’t look at Hotch while he admitted the biggest mistake of his life. “I left my drink alone with a guy. He drugged me. I couldn’t stop him, I begged him to let me go and I kept saying no, but he wouldn’t stop and he brought me out to his truck and put me in the back seat and-”

He was now crying too hard for his words to be understood. Hotchner looked at him sadly, his heart breaking. Spencer didn’t deserve this.

“Spencer, when did this happen?” He asked gently. He wanted to reach out to comfort him, but he had a feeling that would make it worse.

“Friday. It’s all my fault. I left my drink right in front of him. I should have fought harder. I Should never have gone out in the first place.” He whispered, sniffling and trying to breathe.

Hotch was shocked. He’d been through such a traumatic experience and still showed up the next morning? He had noticed before that Spencer was distracted and not acting like himself, and he wished he had pulled him aside to talk sooner.

“First of all, please do not blame yourself for anything. It’s not your fault at all. Leaving your drink alone with someone is not something you should have to be careful of. He’s the one that took action against you. And if you were under the effects of drugs, fighting back at all and saying no may have been the best you could do. Saying you should have tried harder isn’t fair to yourself. You tried your best to stop him.” He saw Spencer shaking and he moved a tiny bit closer so he could at least see a part of him, even when looking down.

“I felt so helpless. Nobody was coming for me. Nobody knew. I couldn’t do anything to stop him but I could feel everything. It hurt so bad, Hotch.” Spencer was starting to break down again and he put his face in his hands. “It still hurts. Everything hurts. I’m covered in bruises that look like his fingers and I took a shower so hot it almost scalded me. And I keep blacking out, and everything reminds me of him and I don’t even remember his name or really what he looked like, I just know he looked a little bit like Mitchell Warren and those girls look like me and he smelled like _fucking_ cigarettes and I-I-”

For the second time in this conversation, he was unable to keep talking. He was so angry at himself and at the man who drugged him and at Mitchell and at cigarettes for existing and smelling so much. Hotch finally reached out to place a gentle hand on his knee, and it made Spencer flinch a little, but he didn’t fully pull away.

“We are all here for you, Spencer. Anything we can do for you, we will. If you need space, we’ll give you space. If you need to be around us, we’ll never get tired of you. If you need to scream at the top of your lungs, you’ve got a whole team ready to provide you with a pillow.” He said and Spencer looked at him.

“Please don’t tell the others. I don’t want them to know. I don’t need anything from them, I just need to distract myself from thinking about it.” He said and wrung his hands together. “Thank you, though.”

“Did you go to the hospital and report it? They can try to find him.” Hotch asked and Spencer shook his head slowly. “Why not?”

“I was high and tired and hurting and I just wanted to go home. And I didn’t want anybody else to know, I was so ashamed.”  He whispered and Hotch pressed his lips together. He hated to say that he understood. The statistics on unreported rape were high, especially for men. He was just sad that Spencer was too afraid of the repercussions to say anything sooner.

“Well, you know you can talk to me, and I’ll help you however I can.” Hotchner said and squeezed his shoulder gently. Spencer didn’t flinch this time. He trusted Hotch. He didn’t know how to trust anyone else, though.


	8. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is the last chapter or not, but let's call it that for now. There may be an epilogue at some point. Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and continued support, even though this took way longer to finish than I wanted it to. I'm fairly happy with how most of it turned out, but keep an eye out for updates maybe? I might go back and improve things later.

When they returned to DC, Spencer retreated quickly to his apartment. Morgan and Garcia had invited everyone out for drinks, Reid had politely declined and said he was tired. He could tell they were suspicious of something, but that was all the more reason to hide himself away and not let anyone find out.

He took another hot shower. Not as hot at the one Friday night, but enough to make him numb and to hide some of the fading marks on his body. Hotch’s words floated through his mind at the steam rose up around him and made the air feel thick in his lungs.  _ “We’re all here for you, Spencer.” _

He knew that his team had his back, they’d proved that time and time again. They’d saved him from being kidnapped, twice, kept him from getting shot numerous times, or at least kneeled by his side when he got hit, and supported him through his involuntary drug addiction. He knew they wouldn’t judge him for this, and he knew that he would feel better if he just talked to him… but his brain was doing it’s best to convince him otherwise, because that’s what it always did. It always tried to convince him that none of his friends cared about him, and that he was all alone in the world, and that nobody would actually care if he ended up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Spencer sank down on to the floor of the shower and cried silently. He put his face in his hands and felt tears fall down his face as he took quiet, shaky breaths and let every emotion he had wanted to feel over the last four days pour over im at once. All his anxiety and fear and sadness hit him like a brick wall and it wasn’t long before his silent tears turned in to heaving breaths and loud sobs. The water went cold and he still sat there, practically wailing in to his arms and not trying at all to make himself stop. This went on for God knows how long, and he probably didn’t really need to be making as much noise a she was, but he’d been almost mute for several days and he needed to let all his emotions out.

He shut up when he heard his phone ringing on the bathroom counter. He stopped his low crying and turned off the freezing water before stepping out and drying off his hands so he could pick up the phone and answer the call.

If it were anyone other than Morgan, he would have ignored it, but he knew that Derek would just keep calling him over and over until he picked up.

“Hey, Derek.” Spencer said, trying to make his voice steady, but he was hoarse and shaky, his nose somewhat plugged, and he had a pounding headache. He held the phone with one hand and tried to towel dry himself with the other.

“Reid, hey.” Derek said with no hint of excess sympathy or sadness in his voice. He sounded like he was a little tipsy, but otherwise just like his usual self. “We missed you tonight, but I get that you’re tired. Ah, shit, you’re probably trying to sleep, aren’t you?” He said and Spencer could almost hear his grimace.

“No, you’re okay. I actually just got out of the shower. I’m sorry, I just really wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.” Spencer awkwardly got the phone in to his other hand so he could keep drying himself.

“Okay, good. I mean… glad I didn’t wake you. Anyways, Hotch told us all to take the morning off and he’s no expecting any of us in until noon. He asked me to tell you.” Derek said and Spencer heard the sound of a door opening and closing, as well as keys jingling in to a bowl. Derek must have just gotten home.

“Oh, alright. Why didn’t he just call me?” Spencer asked.

“I dunno, he just told me to. He wanted to get home to Jack, didn’t want to make any more phone calls.”

It made a little bit of sense, but usually Hotch would just send him a text message or an email, not ask Derek to call him. Still, he would be grateful for a little bit of time to sleep in.

“Alright, well, thanks for letting me know.” He said and went to hang up. The goal of the phone call had been achieved and they were getting dangerously close to further conversation.

“Wait, Spence,” Derek stopped him and Spencer tried not to wince. “How are you doing? You seemed really distressed about this case and you wouldn’t say anything to me earlier. Can you tell me what’s going on? If you’re having trouble, I’m right here.”

_ “We’re all here for you, Spencer.” _

Spencer would have thought there was no physical way he could cry more tonight, but his tear ducts proved him wrong as more tears started to drip down his face. His breath got shaky again and he sat down on the bathroom floor with a towel wrapped around his bruised body, and he cried. He sat there and cried and spilled everything to Morgan, telling him how afraid he was and how hard he had tried to get away, and how the cigarette smell was just so strong, and how that was all he could think about during this case, the smell of cigarettes and being raped in the back of a truck.

Derek didn’t say a word the whole time he was talking, and Spencer didn’t notice the noise in the background of a door opening and closing again, and the sound of a car starting, and the constant hum of an engine. He was trying to steady his breathing again when the car engine turned off and Derek spoke.

“I’m here, Spencer. Come unlock the door for me, I’m here.” He said. It took a moment for Spencer’s emotional and exhausted brain to realize what he was saying. He was here? Actually here at his apartment? He got to his feet quickly, ignoring the way it made his head pound, and went to his bedroom to quickly get some clothes on before heading to the door. He heard Derek’ soothing voice on the other end of the phone and he opened the door when he made it upstairs.

Derek hung up their phone call as he stepped inside. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek was hugging him. Big, strong arms were wrapped around Spencer and he barely had a tense moment before relaxing in to the embrace and hugging him back. A few silent tears dripped onto Morgan’s shirt, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“I’ve got you.” He said softly and rubbed his back. “I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. And I’ll help you through this, if you’ll let me.

Spencer buried his face in to Derek’s chest, taking comfort in being able to hear his heartbeat and feel his steady breathing. He sank into the touch and they both stood there for a while as Spencer cried himself out for, hopefully, the last time tonight.

Worlessly, Derek guided Spencer down the hall towards him bedroom and eased him down in to bed. He pulled the covers up over Spencer's shoulders and paused for a moment.

“Spence? Is it okay if I lay with you?” He asked and Spencer looked at him sleepily, starting to hit a wall. It had been an exhausting weekend and the last few hours of emotion had completely drained the little energy he had left. 

“Uh,” He said and licked his lips. “Yeah, actually. I would really like that.” He said and Derek smiled softly taking off his shoes and crawling in to the bed behind Spencer. He slowly, ever so carefully, wrapped his arms around Spencer from behind. Spencer could tell he was being extra cautious, but he actually appreciated it right now. He was able to relax and let himself sink in to Derek’s chest. His eyes were heavy and him body completely ready to sleep for a long time. He started to doze off and heard Morgan speaking softly to him.

“I’ve got you, Spence. I’m here. And I’m happy that you’re here. I love you.” He said and Spencer smiled as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
